Elizabeth Thornton by Whisper His Name Page A

remembered retreating into her own little world of books and poetry. But she hadn’t been a Beauty; she’d been an awkward, lanky girl. In time, Hetty would gain confidence because she would discover that people, and men in particular, were attracted to beauty.
    She watched Hugh press a kiss to the young woman’s hand, then she tore her eyes away. Now that she was seeing Hugh as a man and not as a friend, she’d become absurdly conscious of everything about him—his looks, his manners, the little gestures that were unique to Hugh, how he swept that dark lock of hair back from his forehead when his mind was elsewhere, and how his smile became crooked when he was unsure of himself.
    But what did he see when he looked at her?
    She wasn’t that awkward, lanky girl of eighteen any more. She’d learned to make the best of herself. Maybe Hugh thought she was beautiful. Maybe he admired her intelligence and her conversation.
    And maybe she should remember why she was here.
    She picked up her knife and fork, but after one bite of beefsteak, she put them down again. Without Hugh to take her mind off her troubles, she was back to thinking about George. She wondered what he would be eating fordinner tonight, and where they were holding him. It seemed criminal to her that she should be living in the lap of luxury in one of the most expensive hotels in the whole of England, while George was held captive somewhere. Was he warm? Was he cold? Did he have enough to eat? Was he frightened?
    A wave of anger swept over her. She wasn’t a violent person, but if she could lay her hands on the man who was responsible for all this, she would gladly strangle him.
    The waiter arrived to clear their table, and a few moments later, Hugh returned. Abbie rose, and they made for the lobby.
    Hugh said, “That was Mrs. Langley and her daughter, Henrietta. You’ve heard me mention Colonel Langley? He was my commanding officer.”
    It was all coming back to her. Hugh had talked about Colonel Langley before. He had shared Hugh’s interest in Roman antiquities, and though they’d been fighting a war in Spain, they managed to see the Roman ruins. Despite the difference in their ages, they’d become friends.
    Mrs. Langley was an army wife, which meant that where Colonel Langley went, she followed. Hugh respected her enormously because although she’d been born to a life of luxury, she’d given it all up to marry the man she loved, and had endured hardships without complaint just to be with her husband.
    Abbie said, “You never mentioned that the Langleys had a daughter.”
    “No? Well, Hetty was a child when I knew her. She was all arms and legs when they sent her home to relatives in England to finish her education. It almost broke their hearts to part with her. They’d given up hope of havingchildren when Hetty came along. And you can imagine how they spoiled her.”
    “She’s grown into a lovely young woman.”
    “And all set to make her come-out,” replied Hugh.
    “Are they going to London, then?”
    “For the season. Colonel Langley is there now. He works at the foreign office. Mrs. Langley is staying with relatives in Marlborough while their house in Chelsea is being done up for Henrietta’s come-out ball.”
    “I’ll bet her father is screaming blue murder at the cost of everything.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Men always do.”
    Abbie didn’t hear Hugh’s response. She was scanning the faces of the people they passed in the lobby and on their way up the stairs, but her fears were groundless. Nobody spared her a second glance. When they came to the narrow staircase that led to the attics, Abbie halted, and offered Hugh her hand.
    “This is good-bye, then, Hugh. I won’t see you in the morning because I shall be leaving early. It was very kind of you to come after me, and I mean that sincerely. Give my love to Olivia, and tell all my friends I shall write to them soon.”
    He took the hand she offered and stared down at it.